


Twenty-Two

by HaughtPocket00 (HaughtPocket)



Series: You're My Home [2]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Emotional, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaughtPocket/pseuds/HaughtPocket00
Summary: Tragedy strikes.Inspired by recent events. See notes.





	Twenty-Two

**Author's Note:**

> When my emotions get too big to handle, I have to write.
> 
> So, inspired by what has happened in Manchester. But also by the tragedies that seem to be non-stop.
> 
> Let it be noted, this is SAD.  
> (No canon character deaths)
> 
> (I made this a continuation of a previous fic, but you don't have to read that to read this. I just wanted an established background in place)

Waverly tried to shut out the sounds, the cries around her, as she wove through the halls, in search of one particular room.  
But at the same time, she didn't want to shut it out. These cries deserve to be heard. By her, by everyone.

212 … 212 … 212

She stopped in front of the door, inhaling deeply, taking in air like it would give her the strength she needed. She carefully pressed the door inwards, eyes searching for a sign that her wife was okay before she even entered the room.

“Wave,” that familiar, warm voice trembled as it called to her. Waverly hurried in, Nicole sat up at the edge of the bed. She stood and they collided, wrapped tight in each other.

All that she still wore of her uniform were the pants and an undershirt. Her upper arm was wrapped in clean, white bandage.

Waverly didn't even want to think about that. Not now. Not yet. She would, she'd worry, and fuss, plenty. Right now, she just needed to hold this woman, hold her tight, remind herself of the reality that she was here.

And Nicole did the same. Images and sounds of the day ran through her mind, made her tremble in heartbreak. But she held her wife. Burying her nose in the long brunette hair, she cried quietly.  
“Just kids … so many kids.”

Twenty-two.  
Twenty-two people.

All it took was one person entering a school. A place of learning and growth.

Twenty-two lives, loves, cut short. More, injured.

They lay down on the hospital bed, and wept, holding each other for what could have been hours.

It was hours. They weren't pulling out of the hospital parking lot until the next morning.

Waverly drove, a quiet ride. Nicole pressed her forehead against the window, watching the scenery pass by her. An outstretched hand never let go of Waverly's.

Pulling up in the driveway, Waverly was surprised to see Wynonna emerge from the house before 6AM. She strode to the passenger side, opened Nicole’s door, helped her sister-in-law from the jeep.

One of those expressions was on Wynonna's face. A rare serious face that no one really saw too often. She laid both hands on Nicole's shoulders. Jaw set tight, she looked into the teary brown eyes. Her face almost shook and she pulled her into a tight hug.

Looking death in the eye, staring it down, and sometimes losing at the game it plays, it's a dangerous thing. Some people don't come back. Wynonna was going to make damn sure Nicole wasn't one of them.

Waverly crossed the front of the jeep and took Nicole's hand, still shaking, as they walked inside.

“Girls are asleep in your bed. You want me to move ‘em?”

“No. Don't.” Nicole made her way up the stairs without another word.

Waverly wrapped her arms around Wynonna. “Thanks.”

Wynonna pressed a kiss to her forehead. A wordless speech of her love for this family she had. A speech with too many words, and feelings that didn't quite have words, so she summed it all up in a kiss. Waverly always got the message.

Wynonna left the little family, Waverly hung her coat and went upstairs. She paused briefly at the doorway to her bedroom. Nicole replaced her uniform for sweatpants and a t-shirt, and wedged herself between the little four-year-olds. Long brunette hair streamed down one arm, short curly red hair lay over the other, the two girls tucked into her sides.

Nicole looked up from admiring their faces to Waverly, gestured for her to join them. She quietly peeled her layers off, put on her pajamas, slid in the big bed next her girls. Nicole gently lifted Nova to the other side of Wren, then pressed as close to her wife as she could.

One arm behind her head, long fingers stroking her hair, Waverly stared into Nicole's eyes. Nicole stared back. Her hand moved to Waverly's belly, number 3, almost 4 months along now.

“They were babies. Someone took all those babies,” Nicole's voice cracked under the restrained sob. Her gaze drifted from the belly, the baby, to Waverly's eyes.

Waverly nodded, tears freely falling.  
“I know, honey.”  
She pressed her lips to Nicole's. They cried, sobbed into that kiss. It was messy. But it was real and true and happening. And the ugly of the world seemed to fade when they held each other. All the hate in the world didn't stand a chance with all the love in that little room.

Nicole's mind continued to take her back to one moment. One moment in particular.

She carried a little girl from the school, couldn't have been more than 6. A little girl in a big pink sweater, long blonde hair. Gunshot wound to the abdomen, she pressed, tried to stop the blood flowing from such a small body.

She held her hand tight as the paramedics worked. She held it tight in the back of the ambulance. She held it tight when it stopped gripping back before they even reached the hospital. She held it tight when they told her to move, but she didn't because someone had to hold this girl’s hand as she drifted away, too many years before anyone should. She held it tight when they pronounced TOD, and she sobbed openly over the small girl. The girl in a big pink sweater and long blonde hair.

Now she heaved sobs into Waverly's chest.  
“She was - she was someone's baby!”

The cry pierced Waverly’s heart. She didn't have words. She was a master in several languages. But sometimes a pain is so big, a thing hurts so bad, there just aren't words for it. The words just don't exist. All that's left to do is hold someone.

Find someone, hold on tight, don't let go. Share burdens and problems and maybe, one day, the pain becomes manageable. But only with help.

Waverly and Nicole had already found each other. And they held on because their lives did, indeed, depend on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hold your loved ones. As often as possible. Don't stop loving.
> 
> I'm not trying to make sense of anything. Not trying to soothe anyone's grief, fix any problems. Putting emotions to the page, that's it.
> 
> @wrackwonder wrote a *beautiful* fic after Orlando. (check out their "Home" series, though I'm sure everyone already has). It gave me the courage to post this.
> 
> So much love, to all of you, every single one of you beautiful people.


End file.
